Flame consumed Figaro’s concert hall as if mocking Havok’s new charge. Suffocating heat radiated from the building, coupled with billows of black smoke that poured from the entrance. It had happened so fast. He was so FUCKING close, barely a hundred feet away when it had gone up like a dry leaf. The crimson licks forced memories of pain back into Havok’s mind. Memories of absolute suffering, of charred corpses and the stench of sulfur death. Through the fire, he could almost hear the demon’s empty voice patronizing him.

“Want to take my mantle? A demon isn’t scared of flame. THEY LIVE IN FLAME.”

Those were the words carved into the inferno. This was a direct challenge to him. Havok’s metal fist smacked into the wall. And he would NOT fail such a challenge.

“Havok we have to leave sir,” said one of the soldiers behind him, barely yelling over the roar and popping of cracking wood, “fire department will be here soon!”

“NO!” said Havok, his voice like the crushing of gravel beneath heel, “surround the building! Don’t let Sinclair escape!”

The soldier hesitated, stuck between two fears. He swore and then turned to his squad mates, commanding them to do as told.

Havok pushed forward, cloth over his mouth and his metal leg jamming against his hip bone with every step. He needed to get to the center hall quick before the building crumbled around him. The structure was a fucking maze though, it wouldn’t be easy. Havok grabbed a heavy set wooden door with his steel hand. He struggled to get his fingers around the handle, the robotics rebelling against his command. Havok’s jaw tightened as he ordered his mechanical hand clenched. Finally, it submitted, but clumsily. There was a whirr of machinery in his arm as he forced the door open, the hinges and lock crying out before both snapped and the entire door giving way. Flames erupted from the opening, doing nothing to his new metal flesh.

Havok would not let anything stop him. Not flames, not pain, not even Avaes. Everything would bend to his will, until Sinclair stood in front of him, writhing in pain.

-----------------------------------------

Cicero smiled, watching from afar as the Avaes soldiers surrounded Figaro’s little playpen. The building burned bright like the dying star it was. A crowd of onlookers had begun to gather and the sound of distant sirens shook the air.

Cicero’s grin grew even more. Havok reacted exactly as intended. The squad leader was like a Pavlovian puppy, the fire making him salivate like a bell. Salivate for Sinclair’s flesh.

These flames reeked of Havok’s last date with Sinclair. A date which cost an arm and a leg so to speak. Cicero giggled. Of course, Havok would assume good ole Sinclair was responsible. He would listen to the bells like an obedient little puppy and nip at the heels of the silver-eyed Jackal. However just like last time Sinclair had nothing to do with it.

Cicero rubbed a finger over the trigger in hand, caressing the handiwork. All it took was a few hundred incendiary explosives laid in the walls of the concert hall and the sluts hideout and Havok was on a tight leash. All the mastermind had to do was use a few triggers and the plan was set in motion.

Cicero stood and placed a white-rimmed black hat upon head. The next concern was to deal with the detectives. Once the strings had been pulled to get Adam and Grey out of the picture the real fun could begin. Cicero's chest swelled in anticipation. It was time to go see the beloved Sinclair.

Cicero pulled on a coat and stepped outside.

All of the pieces were there, they just needed a bit more pushing.