A/N: Hey, all! I'm back! First off, I wanted to say thank you to all those who have supported me and encouraged me to stick with what I'm doing, and more importantly, to remain on this site. I've decided to buck and, despite the the undue anger and aggression I've been receiving from both sources anonymous and otherwise...I'm going to stick around. Writing has been my passin for all of six years, and I wouldn't give it up for the world. If I stopped writing on this sight I'd just feel...hollow, ya know?

Now, I've been through the ringer as of late, but it seems things are finally starting to look up for me at long last. My living situation has been rectified, I'll be going back to school soon, and to top it all off, I recently found a new job! Today, was orientation. Now,I know what you're thinking. Will work cut down on the frantic updating I've been doing as of late? Not so! There are many hours in the day, and I'm definitely going to work hard to continue to update all my fics-Prometheus being one of them- So thanks, ya'll for the support. Love you guys! Now...

...let's burn!

"Fire is life. Fire is death. Fire is me."

~Napalm.

Napalm

Fire.

The element of Life. Warmth. Change.

It is energy, heat, given physical form.

Since ancient times, this eldritch force has both captivated mankind and terrified it at the same time. T'was a fire that first allowed us to crawl out of the primordial muck; fire, which came before tools and the wheel. It enabled us to hunt, to find warmth at night. Eventually, fire became a beacon for humans everywhere-an eternal symbol of both hope and progress: a constant reminder of that first, tentative, tender spark which would one day fling humanity itself to the precipiece of civilization and evolution.

But fire is not always good. It does not discriminate between gender, does not decide the difference in weak or strong. Young or old. Black and white. It simply consumes them all-burning brighter and stronger as more and more fuel is fed to it. In time, it even devours even the air itself, gorging itself until even that which first sustained it is no more. Fire is life-yet so too is it a poison.

Because for all its warmth and blessings and promises of protection from the cold, fire is also death. Destruction. Chaos. Anger. Wrath.

And if you get too close...

...you might get burned.

Academy City.

A place where scientists and students alike call their home.

Armed with the most advanced technology known to man, this place serves as the world's leading educational institution for special students who display feats of supernatural power, and the greatest minds of the world to study and help these students to harness these abilities. These students-or Espers as they are referred to-come from alll parts of the world to take part in the Power Curriculum Program for a chance to harness these abilities. It is a paradise for those who wish to learn, a breeding ground for new ideas, concepts and designs.

But even a metropolis such as this is not without its own flaws.

Crime, for one.

It seemed that no matter where one went or what one did, there was always someone plotting against the city. Be it a maniac with a god complex, insane mages, or even something as simple and innane as a common bank robbery; there was always some new strife taking place in some part of this fair city somewhere, somehow. One could no sooner change this than they could cease breathing. Ordinarily Judgement and Anti - Skill were tasked with handling these matters. Sometimes they didn't make it in time.

Sometimes they arrived to find the crime scene scorched, the perpetrators turned to ash by a great and intense heat.

Tonight was the latter.

Evening had fallen upon the fair Academy City. Not a soul to be seen.

Just as planned.

"Go, go, go!"

The shutters of the bank blew themselves violently open in a mighty explosion, sending shards of molten hot steel shooting out into the street. Alarms wailed. Three men scramblled out under the cover of darkness and clamored away from the scene of the crime, clutching tight their spoils over their backs in sacks. These robbers in question weren't a particularly bright bunch; but for some misbegotten reason, they'd gone with the old cliche and had chosen to strike at night with their heist. Rather than during broad daylight hours it had seemed a good idea. At the time.

But now, when they piled into the car, it would not start. Rather it did, but the tires-melted to the asphalt-simply refused to be budged. By the time someone realized this, sixty seconds had passed. Ordinarily, a minute wasn't viewed of with much consequence in the grand scheme of things, but to these men, time was of the essence. And that lone minute, sealed their fates. In the time it took them to realize that they weren't gettting any traction, another thirty seconds had passed them by now.

"What the hell?!" one of them grumbled, his voice breaking in annoyance. "Why aren't we moving?!" No one noticed the blur of movement over their heads. None saw the crimson meteor streaking towards them.

"Its the tires boss, they're just not-

Whump!

A dull thud signalled the dear departure of their transmission as well - the engine sputtering and dying. Followed by the hood crumpling as a crimson blur dropped from the rooftops to land in a pointed crouch upon the engine block. There was a silence, jagged in its severity. And then all hell broke loose. Screams tore through the car in a cacophony of swearing and spitting as everyone tried to clamor into the back seat and get away from the scarlet spectre. He snarled at them with words that sounded like a thousand slowly moving avalanches.

"Hello, boys." the venom in his voice nearly made their spines melt. "Going somewhere?"

The trio fearfully shook their heads.

"Good. Very good." The smoldering wraith of wrath lingered there another moment, bright eyes, one red, the other blue, leering angrily into the driver's seat. "Then, you won't mind if I do...this?" Before anyone could think to stop him an arm pistonned forward, punching through their glass and snatching up one of the burglars in the blink of an eye. A jerk of his wrist sent the man screaming through the broken windshield steering wheel and all, to land yards away in a crumpled. So much for the get away car. And the driver.

The others scranbled out after him, nearly tripping over themselves in an attempt to escape.

"Whoa, whoa, who the hell is this guy?!"

Physically, speaking, he didn't look all that menacing. The boy -for this was no man- wore a deep red jacket and dark onyx pants, his feet sheahted in military-issue boots, the kind one might use to stomp through mud in a swamp somewhere. His hands were jammed into pockets that had seen better days. He wasn't tall, but neither could he be called short. A cowl covered most of his head, a half-mask concealing the lower portion of the rest of his features in shadow. He couldn't have been more than thirteen, maybe fourteen years old. Still those eerie, mismatching orbs-one red, the other blue-bored into them, narrow with contempt.

"That money doesn't belong to you." his voice vibrated with barely controlled anger. "Would you kindly put it back?"

"Like hell!"

He turned slowly, idly regarding the man who had spoken, the one he'd tossed out the windshield not so long ago. Somehow, he was moving.

"Ara, you're still alive?"

"Don't understimate me, damnit!" That man-a Level Three Esper-raised a hand and began focusing power into it. Before long a baseball-sized sphere of orange energy had gathered in the palm of his hand, crackling in a golden glow of fire and flame. "Eat shit and die!" He launched it forward with a snarl. If the boy in red looked at all threatened by this approaching spheroid he did little to show it. All he did was raise a hand, offering a palm in recompense for the burglar's temerity.

Catch.

His eyes drifted shut. Fingers closed around the ball of flame and clenched, snuffing it out like a tiny candle.

"Hmmph, is that it?" he scoffed, those eyes flying open again. "You call this a flame? This is not a flame."

"This is a flame."

The blond lifted his right hand in front of his face and took a deep, slow breath. Suddenly golden flames erupted from the air and deep into his palm, forming into a white-hot sphere, cradling between his fingertips. He pivoted and slammed that blazing fist into the center of the street. There was a silence, jagged in its intensity.

And the night erupted.

Whoosh. There was a blinding flash, and new flames erupted from under the boy's feet. A circle of fire spread out across the street, engulfing the poor pyro esper instantaneously. The man didn't even have any time to scream before his body turned to ash.

The remaining two leapt away almost immediately, but not before the spreading flames reached their feet and singed the bottoms of their shoes. Only a few yards away, the surface of asphalt was a blaze, tongues of fire snaking up in tendrils from the center around the boy. The flames around him quivered as their heat was channeled up into the blazing attack. Those golden tendrils seemed almost alive rolling and twisting upon themselves. And yet he was not harmed by this power. His power. Not in the slightest.

If anything he seemed...pleased.

"Shit! Shoot him! Shoot him!"

Bullets lit the air at breakneck speeds-and were immediately charred to so much ash before they could so much as touch him. He snapped his fingers and their weapons turned to molten slag in their hands, scalding the men and detonating their bullets in explosive fashion. One of them lanced through a leg. The man screamed.

"Next." a finger crooked toward the remaining robbers. Realizing the severity of what they were up against, they tried to beg. He didn't listen.

A sweeping motion put an end to the life of the second thug, sending his smoldering body sprawling out of the street and into a nearby plaza. He died without so much as a sound.

Behind him, the last of the thieves, a portly looking man who'd just about pissed himself, was now shaking in his boots. "W-Wait!" he sputtrered as the pyrokinetic stalked towards him. "I know you! Blond hair, red/blue eyes, and that fire...y-you're him!" the words came in a panic. "You're the one all over the news!" he collapsed to his knees with a fearful shriek, leaving the teenager to tower over him, his smoldering sihouette a blank outline in the gloom, still cooking with tiny trails of smoke and flame. "That crazy vigilante esper kid!"

He kept coming.

"Napalm!"

"You are correct, sir." Behind his half-mask the boy smiled, slowing to a halt before him, "Yes, that's right. I'm surprised you recognize me. Although..." Almost leisurely, he began to tug off his right glove, exposing the fingers of his hand. "One does wonder and it begs the question," Idly, the burglar noticed this spiderweb of scars that all but covered his palm, a latice of old burns that captivated the mind, and drew the eye. "If you've heard of me, And you know what I'm capable of," He got an even closer look, as that very hand reached down and covered his face, lifting him into the air as though he weighed no more than a feather. "Why you would be out here in the first place?"

Mouth muffled by that scorching palm, the man managed only a terrified keening sound. Miracuously, the boy threw him back down, leaving him to scramble away. Then he saw the blue - orange sphere swelling in that scarred hand.

"Please don't kill me! PLEASE!" he sobbed, desperately trying to scramble away without putting pressure on his wounded leg. Thick, fat fears trailed down his chubby face. "I've got a family, man! Kids! I was doing this for them!"

The flames flickered momentarily in that hand. "What are their names?"

"Huh?"

"Their. Names."

"Nanako! Shinji!" the answer came quickly. A little too quickly. There was a silence. Napalm didn't immediately reply. But when he did...

"You're lying."

Shit! How did he know?!

"The human body gives minute signs when it tells a lie. I am able to identity those signs." There was no pity to be found in that soulless gaze now; it was like looking into the eyes of a husk, dead, emotionless and filled with nothing but disdain. "Now, burn."

"I...I...I...!"

"Dissapear!" A swirl of energy whirled around the esper, then shot out in a spiral from his palm. Bolts of electricity crackled all around the two of them, and he felt a cage of heat lock onto his position, searingly into his very soul. Flames sparked to life just in front of the youth's fist and instantly filled the path before him, rushing towards them.

The remaining robber could do absolutely nothing at all. He tried desperately to dodge but the spiraling path moved with him, guiding the flames in an unblockable and undodgeable blaze. It slammed against his torso, legs, and even his arms, searing skin and flinging him back to the edge of the building, where he was barely able to hold on. Then the blond fired again and he knew nothing more. The subsquent explosion blasted out across almost an entire city block, slightly singeing the adjacent buildings that had somehow escaped his last attack.

A tiny bit of his will killed the inferno entirely.

There was a silence as the fires died down abruptly, the quiet broken only by the occasional crackle of the burning asphalt. Napalm breathed it in, glorying in this. A fine night's work, he thought to himself, taking in the ash with quiet satisfaction-and minimal property damage this time to boot. Now, to make my getaway before Anti-Skill or Judgement tries to arrest me-or not!

His lips quirked down in a frown as a bold bolt of electricity filled his peripheal visions. A firewall sprang up between him and the blast, nullifying it with his own element. The effort sent him skidding backwards a foot or so, enough time to get his bearins and nothing more. Someone exulted loudly.

"Found you!"

He turned slightly at the voice, blazing eyes regarding her with idle curiosity. They widened slightly at who they found there. Brown eyes. Short hair. Tokiwadai uniform. His lips curled in a slight smile.

"Ace of Tokiwadai," the boy mused aloud, his voice rising to make itself heard over the roar of the flame. "Misaka Mikoto. I'm impressed that you found me...again. I thought Anti-Skill or Judgement would come for me first this time. Instead, I encounter you. Fasincating. Wouldn't you agree?" As swiftly as his interest had waxed, so too, did it wane. His eyes shifted back to the blaze. "If you're loooking for a fight I'm afraid I won't be able to indulge you this time.

"You should eave the way you came. I've no intention of harming someone like you, but I will not let myself be captured here. Not now." As if to punctuate that very statement, a wave of flames surged over the streets lilke lava, sending her scurrying for safety. A muscle jumped in her jaw as she stared down the level five. Heat and lightning met once more and this time, she actually managed to get a decent shot in. Give him a good jolt. He spasmed slightly, but otherwise gave no indications of being harmed. His head turned, slowly, back towards her.

"I asked you what you were doing!" she snapped!

"I thought that much was obvious." he answered. "I killed them. They planned to rob this bank. Death is their punishment."

"So you decided to charr half a city block?"

"Please, he scoffed. "the damage is only cosmetic. I don't hurt innocents."

"I would've thought someone like you would care more about their city."

"An old friend told me something similair," Napalm said. He stepped out back into the raging inferno, to which the soot currently coating him all but evaporated. "Curse the darkness all you like, but you'd better pack a fucking flamethrower if you want to fight it. I am that flamethrower. And I burn all those who dare to threaten this city."

"Charming."

He gave a short, rough laugh and turned back to the burning wreckage, trailing the fire like a cloak.

"Ah, but that's the thing. I don't care what you think. I'm just a tool. An instrument of justice. They say a hammer can degrade, a hammer can decay - but, hells, it can still be repaired, it can still improve. If you throw it away the minute it starts to show wear, then you might as well throw away all the good it can do as well. And this instrument has a lot of life left in it." Fires fanned around him in response, beckoning. "Now, are you going to move, or do I have to make you? You may be my junior, but that doesn't mean I'll go easy on you."

"Try me."

"Very well." The flames beneath him quivered as their heat was channeled up into his palm, forminng a blazing offense. She braced herself, a preapatory spark arching across her fingers. But instead of flinging it at her, he drove it into the street. An angry cloud of soot and ash kicked up from the resulting explosion; blasting blinding steam in every direction. Shit! Too late she realized what he'd done; if he attacked her now, she would have no chance to counter. But no attack came. Instead, she felt a gloved hand brush her cheek in passing.

"Goodbye, Misaka."

Sputtering, she swiped at him. Her hand passed through empty air.

When the smoke cleared, he was gone.

Naruto and pain were old friends.

A thousand times he had felt its searing kiss blossom across his body. In hundreds of different ways. Dozens of angles. Countlessly. Be it the agony of a broken limb or the burning humiliation of his father striking him in the face, or even something more benign like cutting himself while sprinting, he knew it well, and it knew him. He'd long since learned to block it out; to ignore his nerves when they screamed at him, begged him to stop, stop, stop, oh dear sweet kami above make it stop. It was a simple matter of focusing his attention elsewhere. Looking outward, instead of inward.

He could bypass all but the most debilitating injuries this way, thus allowing him to fight on while his body frantically worked to stitch itself back together. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't. Sometimes it took a week to heal from some of the wounds he sustained on the job. This? This, would only take a few hours before he was moving again. That didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch. Misaka had gotten him good, back there. She just didn't know it. Nearly all of his muscles had clamped down.

"Godamnit, Misaka!" he hissed quietlly, ripping off his mask and shucking off his jacket as he lurched back into his apartment. "Why you gotta be so rough?!" Trembling fingers slapped at the door, forcing it shut behind him. It slammed with a painful crack, causing his already massive headache to flare again with undue pain. He ignored it. And the the electrical burns covering his back. Ignore. A silent mantra echoed in his head.

Ignore. Suppress. Triage. Move on. Anything else was...

...problematic.

Then again, his life had always been that way, hadn't it? Ever since mama died giving birth to his sister. Since she got hit by a car. Since dad started beating on him. Since he'd killed his father in retaliation, charred his progenitor to ash and scattered them to the winds. His life had always been problematic, since the day he'd been born with this hateful power. Perhaps those blessed with fire were also cursed by it, doomed to live a life of pain and destruction, to cause agony to all who came near them. Misaka was the exception to that ugly belief; the only light in an otherwise dark, lonely existence for him. Of course there were Kuroko and Uihara but their friendship was a tiny candle compared to the burning bond he had with Mikoto.

But even she, his best friend, didn't know the truth. She never would. Because she didn't know the real him. She only saw what he wanted her to see. Both as Naruto, and as Napalm.

Napalm.

The blond chuckled softly to himself. He rather liked the name. Just another layer.

His life always -always- consisted of layers. Napalm was simply the newest one to be added to the many masks that sheltered his true self from the eyes of the world but in a way it was his true self; that fierce, burning to desire to bring fierce, flaming justice down on all those who did evil in this city. By killing them. If you were dead, you couldn't rise again to wreak more havoc on the world. If you were dead, you couldn't rob a bank, couldn't abuse your kids. It was a twisted mentality, but it was his mentality. And it had served him well thus far.

They, her and the rest of the world, wouldn't understand.

The pain in his head had sharpened to the point of a needle by now, but it was good pain, bright and clear, hard and clean, like a blade of transparent aluminium running gently across his mind, and suddenly everything was wonderfully, lucidly clear. He could think again. His power was cauterizing his wounds; the strange regeneration he'd inherited from his father -only real good thing that bastard ever gave him- slowly repairing their scars and healing the damage. A blink and his eyes were both blue once more.

And the world was none the wiser.

Come morning, he wouldnt have so much as a scratch. People would look at him and see the mild-mannered Uzumaki Naruto, a harmless Level One. Not the terrifying Napalm, bane of crime in Academy City. The irony of it all still made him smile sometimes. But not tonight. Tonight he was tired. He'd come dangerously close to attacking the one person whow as more important to him than anyone else in the world. It left him feeling empty inside. Hollow, even. He'd never forgive himself if she came to harm because of him.

Muttering softly to himself, he incinerated his outfit to ash and dumbed it into the trash. Half-heartedly, he tugged on a pair of slackss. Then stumbled to bed. His head struck the pillow unerringly, a wave of exhaustion creeping up on him almost before he'd even closed his eyes. And then he did.

Sleep took him instantly.

A/N: And there we have it! I've been dying to make another forray into the worlds of both A Certain Magical Index and Railgun, and, I've finally found a way to do it, as suggested by Agurra of the Darkness. Hope ya'll enjoyed it! Vigilante Naruto for the win! Next chapter will be lighter and have some much needed humor. I'm sure ya'll can appreciate that after a morbid chapter like this, but it was neccessary to get the ball rolling. Hope you like my take on this true, down to earth Naruto!

So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review, Would Ya Kindly? And of course, enjoy the preview! There be two of them this time!

(Preview)

"Hmm?" Naruto blinked his baby blue eyes, idly nipping at his chocolate parfait as his brain proccessed the words. "Napalm took somebody else down last night?" Mikasa nodded somberly at his words, idly aware of the melting parfait in her hands. Her attention was decidedly elsewhere.

"Yeah, he killed three people this time. I managed to corner him but then he just...left.

Her friend chuckled. "What's your deal with this guy? It sounds like ya expect him to fight you every chance you get."

"Jealous?"

"Nope. he demurred with a smile. "If anything, I feel sorry for him."

Mikasa frowned. "You seem to look up to him, though."

"What's not to look up to?" He feigned a shrug as he leaned back against the bench, basking in the shade. "The guy's a hero. I mean a Level Five, kicking ass and taking names. Answering to no one but himself? What's not to like? He's a hero to a measly Level One like me." He'd been an ardently fierce supporter of the vigilante's actions ever since the attacks first began last year. Probably because he worked in Judgement? His ability wasn't all that special, he could create heat, make the occasional spark, maybe burn you a little bit.

Nothing like the firestorm she'd face last night.

She shook her head at the thought. Naruto was an old friend. She'd known him ever since she was little. He was her best friend. He couldn't be Napalm. Besides, he was a Level One...

...right?

"Aaaaaand I'll take a bite of that."

Frowning, she looked over, just in time to witness Naruto taking a healthy bite out of her own parfait. Indirect kiss! Her cheeks colored with more than just indignation.

"HEY?!"

"Oi, now," Napalm cocked his head aside, smiling. "Little ol' me versus you, Accelerator? That's not very fair...

...for you."

R&R! =D