They, seeming overcome with rage and despair, rushed recklessly at the burning man. Each of them looked like an animal in its quest for survival. He, on the other hand, met their attacks with lethal precision. There was no justice here, just a desperate fight for life against a monster.

As I watched the massacre, a feeling of helplessness came over me. The harrowing screams of the innocent spread throughout the carriage, like a haunting soundtrack. Their terrified, contorted faces gave me a bitter sensation that would forever be etched in my memory.

The blue-flamed man, far from being a hero, seemed unstoppable in his rage. He moved with an ethereal grace, but each movement was a step toward destruction. Something about him terrified me more than the guys with the guns.

Every blow he struck, every life he erased, made me question whether he was truly human.

As I struggled to stay focused, vision blurred by the flames and darkness, my mind was in turmoil. A mixed feeling between wanting to completely disappear from there and continuing to see what would happen in that vision of another world that was right behind the window, but there seemed to be no way out. The figure of the burning man became a mirage, a distant and inevitable threat.

When the last person in the shooting fell, the subway came to a screeching halt at the station, as if the entire city was holding its breath. The doors opened, revealing a fragile hope of escape. The survivors, their faces marked with a mixture of relief and disbelief, began to run out of the carriage.

As the flames dissipated, the burning man emerged, his flaming form gradually diminishing. His face, which was previously obscured by the flames, was now visible. 

He was a black man with long dark hair, braided back, and blue eyes almost the color of the sky. 

His body was no longer engulfed in blue flames, but the embers that previously covered him were now slowly extinguishing, leaving behind an aura of smoke and soot. His clothes were torn and charred, but it was possible to see that they were heavy and black clothes. His skin was burned in several parts.

My eyes met his, and a chill ran down my spine, as if I had been struck by a bolt of fear, a fear that I would be the next one to be turned into organic charcoal. I had the feeling that I needed to get out of there immediately, as if my survival depended on it.

I need to get out of this place. Now!

With hurried steps, I left the subway through the doors of the car I was in. I entered the station, but my heart was still in turmoil, my thoughts were in chaos. I tried to rationally understand what had happened, as if I could find a logical explanation for it.

It must have been some kind of new weapon or an illusion, a trick of the light. It can't be real.

I walked quickly, my mind continuing to search for an explanation for the terrifying sight I witnessed. I looked back, hoping to see if he was also getting out of the carriage, but the crowd of people moving through the station made it impossible to spot him.

Maybe he was left behind. Maybe he is part of a Circus show! 

My skeptical mind was desperately trying to find a way to deny the reality of what I had seen. It was the only way to deal with what happened. But try as I might, the image of the man engulfed in flames, the ice spikes, the dead... it was all consuming my mind.

Maybe it was some trick, a bizarre performance. Maybe it's some kind of contemporary art.

As I continued to walk hurriedly, lost in my skeptical thoughts, I ended up bumping into someone coming in the opposite direction.

“Sorry,” I muttered automatically, my mind still far away.

It doesn't make sense, it has to be a collective hallucination, that's it!

I started to climb the stairs in a hurried and disorganized manner, leaving the station in a hurry with my heart in my hand. Then I tripped, hitting my knee on a step.

“SHIT!“ The stumble and frustration made me let out an involuntary exclamation.

As I hurriedly stood up after the stumble, my breathing was labored and I felt my heart stop for a moment. When I straightened up and looked up, I was struck by a terrifying sight. The burning man was now in front of me, blocking my exit from the subway station stairs.

His face was partially hidden by the darkness, with the city lights behind him. Only the silhouettes of his scars and the outlines of his features were visible, creating an even more ominous and mysterious image. His eyes, glowing like embers, were fixed on me with an indescribable expression, something between intensity and curiosity, as if he were studying my soul.

In the background, the city continued its hustle and bustle, people milling around us, oblivious to the strange and terrifying encounter that was taking place on those stairs. The contrast between the normality of everyday life and the disturbing presence of that man was almost surreal.

Dammit.