A/N: Seems I'm doing one shots lately... And I saw everybody was doing these 100 theme challenge thingies, so I decided to take a shot at this one (I got this idea when reading the one at-a-glance did). If you like it I'll do more...and if you don't like it I'll probably do more anyway because this is fun :)
I rated the whole thing 'T' because my stories have a tendency to get a bit on the dark side.
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom
89. Through the Fire
The bright, orange yellow glow surrounded him, blazing, burning, but strangely quiet in his bubble. It truly was fascinating, the way it was eating away his protection, slowly penetrating the cold, warming it up until it reached him. He smiled a little. It would get very hot very soon where he was sitting, his back against the lockers in the hallway, alone.
He heard it's blazing noise now, as a distant rumble, crackling and hissing, the flames licking on the edge of where he was. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled his legs back a little more. His sneakers were already smoking, his jeans had tiny burn holes in them from the sparks that penetrated his ice shield.
He had known it wouldn't hold long, but it was the best he could do at the time. He hoped everybody was out of the school, there hadn't been much time. By the time the fire alarm went off half of the school was already ablaze and people were jumping out of the windows of the three story building.
Of course he was trapped already then, the fire surrounding him evenly, with no chance to get through. He had tried intangibility, but to his surprise had found the fire to be just as hot as when he was solid. And before he could execute his other option, go ghost and fly through the flames as quickly as possible, the entire building was ablaze. He would never make it.
The shield was very thin now and the flames sounded like thunder. He was sweating profusely and inched away from the steel doors of the lockers a bit because they too became hot. He could hear the sirens now, the fire trucks and ambulances stopping in front and beside the school. He imagined the firemen spilling out, ushering everybody away to a prudent distance, rolling out their fire hoses, the medics hurrying to attend to the wounded. He imagined Sam and Tucker yelling at them that he was still inside, that they needed to go in, that they had to get him out.
His anger was gone now. At first it had been replaced with panic and fear, looking into the eyes of his startled friends over the flames, unable to get to them. He had yelled at them to run, to take everybody out, quick, quick, don't wait. And he had watched them leave, running away banging on the classroom doors, screaming, shouting. The aggravating jocks were long gone, scared to their wits end by his fiery outburst.
Now, the only thing he felt was acceptance. He couldn't get out, and chances were the firemen would not be able to get to him in time. His shoes were burning and he quickly pulled them off and threw them into the fire. The flames were licking at his feet now and he felt a scream of agony rising up in him. As he screamed, he saw movement at the end of the hallway, figures moving towards him, extinguishing the fire as they neared him, shouting at him to hold on. His last hope was crushed as the last remnants of his shield gave away and let the hungry flames have access to his unprotected body. Still, there was a strange form of justice to it, he thought.
Considering he started the fire in the first place.