Signs of Insanity

"Text" are John's thoughts

Text are Pyro's thoughts.

I do not own X-men: Evolution

St. John Allerdyce stood over a grill in his backyard in Sydney.

"Can't this bloody steak get done any faster?" He thought to himself as his stomach growled. The flames of the grill grew more intense almost as if they understood what he wanted.

"That was cool."

It was wasn't it?

John looked around, but didn't see anyone nearby. "And that was weird. I coulda sworn I heard someone."

Maybe you did.

"But no one's there."

Maybe it's coming from inside your own head.

"Is it? It couldn't be, could it?"

You know hearing voices is a sure sign of insanity.

"But I'm not insane. I couldn't be."

Keep telling yourself that.

The Aussie shrugged it off; convincing himself it was only the hunger making him delirious and returned to observing the barbeque. The fire leapt through the metal grills as John stared, entranced. "You could almost find pictures in the flames." He mused.

Or you could create them.

"How?" He asked the unidentified voice.

Will them to become what you wish.

"That's crazy. People can't just make flame look the way they want it to."

People can't, but you can.

Johnny snorted in disbelief, but tried it nevertheless. "I want it to look like a dingo." He stared in shock when the fire began to transform into the shape of the wild dog.

A dingo? The voice criticized, You can do better than that.

"Platypus?" The boy asked, wanting to please the voice for a reason he couldn't identify.

No. Was the terse reply. Something even better. A phoenix.

"A phoenix? Now there's an idea." He quickly morphed the blaze into a bird.

Good. Now make it fly.

"Can I do that?" John wondered nervously.

Sure you can. Keep it low to the ground if you're not confident enough. But you should be confident. I have faith in you.

"Alright." He did as suggested and the flaming falcon glided gracefully through the yard, catching the grass on fire. "Should I do something about that?" John questioned.

No, the voice crooned, don't worry, the flames can't hurt you. Now make the phoenix fly over the house.

"If you say so." Johnny glanced skeptically at the spreading fire on the ground before directing his eyes back on his blazing creation. It soared over the roof of his house, setting the shingles on fire. "My parents are still in there," He vaguely remembered.

Don't worry about them, replied the reassuring voice. They never cared about you anyway, so why should you care about them?

"But they're my parents." The boy insisted as the blaze on the house began to turn into an inferno. He could almost hear the shrieks of terror coming from inside.

So? The voice asked. That doesn't matter. You don't need them anymore; you only need me.

"But who are you?" John inquired.

I am Pyro. And I have just deemed you worthy of also taking that name. The voice inside his head answered, as St. John walked away from the burning ruins of his house without a backwards glance.

"Pyro," John mused, "I like the sound o' that."