Burning emotion

The woman had completely stepped through the wall of flames. Her long, smooth hair was black as the night, her eyes dark blue. Snow-white skin, a black robe clinging to her, she slid her tongue over scarlet lips as she approached the coughing policeman. His eyes had stopped tearing. John and Jessie just stood there, frozen. Fear had robbed them of motion—it took everything just to stay conscious. Their hands dropped slightly; guns lowered. They needed all the strength they had left.

The policeman turned to the woman. He sobbed, grunted, moaned as he staggered toward her with limp arms. She tilted her head in mild curiosity, her grin fading. When the man was a meter away, she lunged—too fast to track—and tore off his head. His body stayed upright for a second, spraying blood like a fountain. She laughed, spun in the crimson rain, her smile back. Holding the head between her fingers, she murmured:

'I thought you were immune. Guess I expected too much. Would've been a jackpot this early. Still… I have time before the moon resets. And now to you two!' Her gaze drilled into John and Jessie. Breathing became harder under her intense stare. Still, John managed to speak:

'Who are you? What do you mean with immune? How do you—'

'A lot of questions for someone who's not leaving this station alive. But sure, I'm bored. Let's chat a bit before I kill you.'(Jessie: Is he trying to stall for backup?) The woman took a seat to her right, leaned back and crossed her long legs. Her thin white socks were slightly see-through. 'You can call me Nighyel. I'm a dark priest. Those lovely creatures outside? Ghouls. Brought them here myself.' The pressure was overwhelming, but John's fear was crushed by something stronger—hate.

'Why did you do that?' he bellowed. 'Fuck your dark priest nonsense! And your name is just as ugly as your face! Why bring hell to earth?'

'Hahahaha! Damn, you've got some nerves for your age. First in years to yell at me. First ever to call me ugly!' She rose. 'But don't get it twisted—I haven't brought hell yet. I'm still in the process. And when it's done? Mmmm, it'll be glorious.' John raised his gun with shaky hands and fired. The bullets disintegrated mid-air, melting into ash. (Lilly: Fuck! What are we facing now?) John lunged for a table, yelling:
'Jessie! Fire extinguisher! Now!' Jessie didn't know how, but she moved. She'd get it.

John hurled the table at Nighyel. She casually stretched her arm—flames engulfed the table instantly. As the fire cleared, John appeared right in front of her, shotgun aimed at her face. He fired. Paang!

'Hahahaha! You're good, old man! But not good enough.' The shells had melted before even reaching her face. So did the tip of the shotgun. John dropped it before it ignited. He stepped back and ducked—just as the fire extinguisher flew over him. It hit Nighyel.

John wasn't leaving things to luck. He leapt forward, punched the extinguisher mid-air—shattering it—and his fist drove straight into her face. The smoke shielded his strike, and her body temp had dropped. Bam! She staggered to her knees. The burn on his fist was minor. Instead of striking again, John turned, dashed toward Jessie. Behind him, Nighyel caught fire.
'Old man, you're really something. And surprisingly, my type. Rough and reckless. Damn.'

At the garage door, John gave Jessie a genuine smile. Beside the door were two black bags. He grabbed one and stepped aside.

'John, what's going on?'

'There's a reason I took so long with the bandages. I packed this for you. Guns, ammo, gear. Most people likely headed for Behills Hospital. There's a small military base near it. Go there. Tell them what you saw, what you heard. Everything.' He glanced back toward the flaming tower closing in. 'I'll buy time. Now go—and don't come back!' He didn't wait. He threw her the second bag, shoved her through the stairwell, slammed the door shut and locked it. The fire behind him faded. Nighyel stepped out.

'So… you want some quality time alone with me, huh?'

'Crazy woman, I'd rather burn than date you.' He advanced, bag tight in hand, sweat soaking his face—but he was smiling.
Nighyel raised her arms, cloaked them in fire.

'It's been so long since a man made my heart race. And a human, no less. Out of courtesy for your bravery—I'll take you seriously.'

'I wouldn't want it any other way.' John charged. (John: I have to strike point blank—she might raise a wall otherwise.) Nighyel fired a blazing orb. John pulled out a grenade and threw it. BOOOM! The blast was brutal. It scorched him, tore at his clothes, but still—he roared forward. The battle cry caught Nighyel off guard. Just for a moment—but that was enough. He closed in. Then the moment passed.

Suddenly, she stood before him. Her arm glowed red-hot. She rammed it into his chest.

'We could've had something. And here you ae about to die and I don't even. Know your name.'

'Call me John… and don't worry. We are gonna start something.' Nighyel clutched her cheek with her free hand.

'Damn, why didn't you say that earlier, John? I could bring you back as a—'

'Damn no, woman!' John's grip tightened. He had no strength left—but the hand holding the bag still moved. It had to. Even if the rest of him died. He commanded his hand. And it moved. He slammed the bag of grenades into her—BOOOOOOMMMM!