Felicity Flame

Your Way Wednesday Prompt:

A superhero patrolling the world’s safest city.

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My name is Felicity Flame.

At least, that’s what the public knows me as.

My real identity is Fayn Felicity Kazwart.

Yeah… no one is ever going to think someone with the last name Kazwart is a super hero.

My super powers are, you guessed it, fire related. I’m immune to fire, heat, and I can burst into flame. I throw a wicked cool flame ball and can fly because I’m basically my own jetpack. While I don’t like the snow or rain, I don’t go POOF or extinguish. It just makes me uncomfortable and harder to flame up, but my average temperature runs a lot hotter than your average human. Along with all that, I’m stronger and faster than most. No super human strength or anything, but I’m better off than anyone off the street.

My costume is red and it matches my red hair perfectly, which takes on a flame-like look when the match is lit. It has a yellow-orange flame embroidered on the chest and fits me like a glove. Not gonna lie, I’ve got a rockin’ body in that thing. I’m strait out of a comic book with it on.

All of these facts set me up to be the best damn superhero the world has ever seen, right?

Wrong.

I live in Maryland, Columbia, which is literally the safest city in America. I’m a huge hit with Christmas shoppers in the dead of winter… I’m like the space heater at a restaurant that everyone wants to sit by when they get shoved on the porch. Other than that, I see NO. ACTION.

And this why today, on May 23^rd, you’ll find me at little Tommy’s fourth birthday party… as the entertainment.

I smile broadly as parents snap pictures wildly while the hyperactive four-year-olds are completely still, mesmerized as I manipulate fire to look like a soaring phoenix, a pod of dolphins on the high seas, and even a pirate ship.

It’s low-key humiliating, but a girl’s got to make a living somehow. As a resident superhero, I only get paid by the state if I “save the day”. Without a whole lot of chances for that, I’m now the clown you call for birthday parties. At least I’m not a magical princess, I think to myself dejectedly.

I’m finishing up taking pictures and turn to sanitize my hands. The last kid I took a picture with was a little boy who looked as if he bathed in the chocolate fountain.  I sense someone behind me and turn, recognizing the man some of the kids referred to as Uncle Derrick. He was wearing an obnoxious shirt that read, “I’m the cool, single uncle everyone told you about.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“That was a really cool show,” he says.

“Thanks.” I smile a brief,  please-don’t-talk-to-me smile, but it doesn’t deter him.

“How do you do it? Are there hidden holographic computers somewhere?” He was grinning.

“Nope. It’s all me.” I gesture to myself and regret it immediately as it draws his attention to my bomb-shell physic. I’m not cocky, just well aware of the facts. “Yeah, I’m gonna go.” I say as I pack up the rest of my stuff, a decent check in my bag, and head for the backyard fence.

As I’m walking out, I see a figure leaning casually against the wall. He looks very similar to Uncle Derrick, but is wearing a leather jacket, combat boots and has some major five-o’clock shadow. I shoulder my duffle bag and walk past him without a backwards glance. 

“Did I miss the show?” his gruff voice asks. I turn, reluctantly. 

“Yup.” 

“Well that sucks.” He says simply. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and then glances up at me. “You do fire, right?” I nod and he holds out a single cigarette. “Wanna help a guy out?” 

“Is this your way of hitting on me?” I ask skeptical. His face pinches. 

“My brother, right?” He laughs humorlessly. “I honestly just need a light and if you’re all-” he struggles for a second for the right word. “Flamey? Flamey – it’s more convenient than my lighter.” I stare at him with a deadpan expression.

“Flamey?” I ask. He grins and flashes pearly whites. 

“A technical term,” he assures me, nodding. I shake my head and snap my fingers for him, emitting a flame for him to light his cigarette. 

“I’ll be damned…” he says under his breath staring at the flame. He eyes me when he takes a long drag on his cigarette and I drop my hand, letting the flame fizzle out. “What’s a girl like you doing toddler birthday parties for, anyway? Shouldn’t you be out doing something heroic?” 

“What’s a guy like you doing smoking when you could be breathing fresh air like a decent human being?” I shoot back at him. He nods, approving of my retort. 

“Touche.” 

We stare at each other for a moment. He takes another long drag and then says, “My name is Hayden.” 

“Felicity Flame,” I incline my head, my face still void of all emotion. 

“You doing anything later tonight?” 

“So you were hitting on me,” I confirm. He shrugs shamelessly. 

“Was it better than my brother’s attempt?” He asks. Now I shrug, nodding and pull out my business card. 

“I guess you can call me. If, ” I hold the card up between us and then point to the sleek, black Ducati parked in the driveway, “you pick me up for our date driving that.” 

He grins and I can’t help but smirk back at him. 

“You got yourself a deal.” He takes the card and I turn on my heel. “Now go save someone, for crying out loud. You’re a super hero if I’ve ever seen one,” he yells after me. 

I turn around and walking backwards yell back, “Quit smoking. You’re hotter without it.” 

I flame on, definitely showing off now, and feel a thrill as I take off into the air and catch his appreciative smirk. 

Maybe being birthday entertainment isn’t that bad… Maybe.