Powers Contest Entry: Wyldfyre: Hot Shrinkage

Contest Entry: ID 20677
Wyldfyre
Attack: Fire Blooded
Defense: Bulletproof
Movement: Supernova
        “Hello again, Mr. Maddigan,” the office receptionist greeted me as I came back for my court-sanctioned anger management therapy session. “The doctor will be right with you.”
        “Yeah, yeah.” I considered asking for her number. She didn’t have the shapely body I liked, but she wasn’t a butt-’er-face either. “How you doing?”
        She tittered. “Now Mr. Maddigan, I’ve—”
        “It’s Quan, baby,” I said. “I’ve asked you to call me Quan every time I’ve been in here. Why you keep breaking my heart?”
        “It’s office policy. I’m sorry.” She shrugged. I could see behind her blue eyes that she had used that same practiced excuse before.
        A door opened behind the pane of glass between the waiting room and the shrink’s office door. An attractive blond in a sexy black leather skirt with shapely legs stepped out. “Mr. Maddigan? I’m ready to see you now.”
        I remembered why I never got far asking the girl behind the receptionist’s desk out. Why go for chopped steak when prime rib was within reach? “I’m wanted Shelly. Got to go.”
        The receptionist buzzed me through into the next room. “My name’s Shelby…”
        “I’m sure it is.” She kept saying something yadda-yadda but I breezed past her and smiled at the woman before me. “What’s up, Doc? Your couch or mine?”
        “Mine,” Dr. Elvira Sinclair replied. “Come in, please.”
        Her office had that staged look, but I had to give her credit. If you took the time to look at the items on her shelf (and I had), they weren’t cheap or gaudy. She actually had a genuine human skull made out of obsidian held inside a glass display case. This shrink was my kind of crazy. I moved over to the leather couch between two bookcases opposite her desk and sat to one side, leaving plenty of room for her to join me.
        She ignored my invitation, as usual, and sat at a high-backed gothic chair. She picked up a wine glass filled with what must have been an expensive vintage. I could smell the meaty aroma it gave off. “How has the past week been for you, Mr. Maddigan?”
        “You know, a bit of this, a bit of that. Nothing special.” I tipped my nose at her glass. “You gonna share some of that or should we jump to the whiskey. Whiskey makes ya frisky, as they say.”
        “I’ve told you before that there will be none of that sort of activity taking place in my office, Mr. Maddigan.” She sipped at her glass, letting a droplet of wine linger on her red lips before licking it off. “If you care to indulge in the carnal desires of your imagination after our session, that is a healthy outlet that I won’t deny you. Once you are alone in the privacy of your own home, of course.”
        “You say the sweetest things, Doc,” I grinned at her.
        She nodded with the poise of a goddess, slow and deliberate. “Last session, we spoke about how your life changed in college. You said that was when the Morphons in the atmosphere granted you your gifts.”
        “Gifts,” I spat the word out like bad gristle. “Bah, getting powers hasn’t been any gift sweetheart. They ruined my life.”
        “Why do you say that?” Dr. Sinclair set down her wine glass, the rim stained with her lipstick, and took up an old-fashioned yellow pad. She pulled a long hair pin from her bun and twisted it, uncapping a pen.
        “Nothing good has come from them. My life’s been on a downward spiral ever since the day I first manifested them.” I spun and lifted my legs up onto the couch, scooching my ass so I could lay back and use the sloped arm to rest my noggin. If I was going to be head-shrunk, I might as well be comfortable. “Look at me, using big words like manifested. It wasn’t that long ago that ‘manifested’ wasn’t even a word.”
        Dr. Sinclair raised a well-manicured finger to me as she slid her lovely mouth open but chose not to speak for some reason. She must have realized I was right about my vocabulary lesson. She scribbled on the page for a second or two. “Tell me about the first… manifestation of your powers, please.”
        “My college roommate and I went to a frat party the night before. Had a blast. Drank some brews, hit on some cheerleaders, but ended up going back to the dorm a solo act.” While the party had become a blurred memory, the next morning had been seared on my brain. “I woke up on fire the next morning. Somehow, I went Supernova in my bunk, torching my sheets and my clothes.” I winked at her and gave her a playful smile. “That’s why I’ve slept in the nude every night since.”
        “Um-humm.” Dr. Sinclair nodded, keeping her eyes low and focused on her pad of legal sized paper. “Your first experience with your powers was a violent one. Interesting. Was anyone injured?”
        “No. My buddy talked me down before things got worse.” I debated going into more details about Alex’s manifestation the same morning, but he was busy trying to be a damn do-gooder. I had client-shrink privilege with her, but it was better not to risk telling her more than she asked. I owed him that much, at least. “We got the fire out, but the damage was done. Turns out an inferno in a residential dormitory hall is sufficient reason to be evicted.”
        “Which gave you reason to blame your new powers as the cause for the negative impact on your life.” She laid the pad of paper on her crossed legs. Very limber, crossed legs with sharp stiletto heels. “Were there other consequences?”
         “Hell yeah.” I stared up at the paneled ceiling as I thought back on everything that happened afterward. “I was given an athletic scholarship to the college in the first place. Once the coaches and parents found out about what happened in the dorm room, I found myself on the bench at first, and within a few weeks, off the team. Who wants a teammate that could explode like Pompeii?”
        “Vesuvius.”
        “Gesundheit.” I looked over her. “You got a cold?”
        “No.” She chuckled slightly before covering her mouth and clearing her throat. “The city that Vesuvius destroyed was Pompeii. The mountain exploded, not the city.”
        I huffed at her, reminded of the college instructors who often corrected me in the same manner. “Whatever. You got what I meant. Like I was saying, I went to college for sports, not for being an encyclopedia. I bet you can guess how long I lasted after I got booted from the only thing I was good at.”
        “I take it you didn’t remain long.” She picked her pad up again and scribbled some more. “Did you try to explore any other opportunities after you left the college? To find a way to turn your gifts into assets?”
        “Like what? Professional Firestarter? A weed igniter at a dispensary? It isn’t like any idiot with a lighter couldn’t do what I could.” I sat back up and stared at her. For some reason, everyone expected that having powers made a person special and unique. I couldn’t do anything that BIC hadn’t already been doing for decades.
        “Firefighter jumps to mind for me, but I don’t know the extent of what you can do?” She stared into my eyes. “With so many others developing powers, you could have reached out to BADGE. They could have helped you, I’m sure.”
        I shook my head with amusement as I he-he-he’ed her idea. “I worked hard to play football, and I was good at it. Why? Because I wanted to make the big bux. My father was in the military. He served them faithfully for years, doing his duty. I barely recognized him every time he would come home after a tour.”
        “That lifestyle is very difficult for many people.” She lifted the top sheet of her legal pad and read something beneath it. “I see you traveled a great deal in your childhood. Was that do to his military service?”
        I nodded. “We started out in Hawaii and ended up in Michigan after what… ten other military bases."
        “How was he when you did get to spend time with him?”
        “He was a good man. Not the brightest bulb, like me, but hard working. Loyal. Told me as a kid serving his country was his calling.” I smirked. “That was until they chewed him up and spat him out. After that, he told me something else.”
        “And what was that?” She asked.
        “Money is what makes the world go around. Find a way to make lots of it so you don’t get taken advantage of like me.” Even though it happened to my father, I felt the same hurt he must have when I recalled his story. “See, he had been sent on an all-important mission, but due to cutbacks, every bit of equipment they had was either outdated or recycled crap that had been repaired more times than anyone could count. His commanding officer tried to requisition new gear, but they were told there wasn’t time. The unit went in to rescue civilians, who turned out to be old bureaucrats and financial advisors of our government, from an enemy compound with advanced technology. His squad never stood a chance. They got some civilians out, but not everyone, and all the while three-quarters of my father's unit died.”
        “I see—”
        I cut her off before she could spew platitudes. “No, you don’t see. The public blamed my father and the other survivors from his unit for screwing up. The government blamed his unit, put them on trial before their inspectors looking for fault when the whole time, they knew it was their own damn mistakes that cause the mission to fail. The injuries may have crippled my father, but it wasn’t until he got home that he was broken.”
        She leaned back against her elaborately carved seat, waiting for something. The wine glass flickered, reflecting something that hadn’t been their before. I looked down and stomped out fire on the rug at my feet. The rage that engulfed me switched to embarrassment. I don’t know which felt worse.
        “Do these types of accidents happen much, Mr. Maddigan?” She rose from her chair and moved to a cabinet built into the side wall. She lifted a decanter and poured a small amount of water out into a glass.
        “Not so much, but when you’re Fire Blooded, it’s always a possibility. I’ve usually got a good buzz going to keep flare ups to a minimum.” I looked at the scorching left on the floor covering. “How much is that going to set me back, Doc? Most insurances won’t cover minor fire damage. Trust me, I know.”
        “Don’t worry about it. I’ve never cared for the look of it much myself.” She returned and offered the glass to me. “Let’s see this doesn’t happen again, shall we?”
        I took the glass and gulped the contents back. Immediately, I recognized it wasn’t water, but vodka. I coughed as it trickled down my throat, but I couldn’t help but find the belt refreshing. “Thanks. It’s not whiskey, but it will do.”
        “You do realize you have some unresolved issues that likely cause many of your difficulties. Those really should be addressed?” She lowered into her seat.
        I could hear her body move against the leather backrest as she settled in. My god, what a dominatrix she would make. “You gonna fix me, Doc?”
        “No. That’s up to you. I’m willing to help you learn to protect yourself from…” She leaned forward, “yourself. Do you have any powers that are defensive rather than destructive?”
        “I can generate enough heat around me to make myself generally Bulletproof, but that also sets most everything else around me on fire. Does that count?”
        She fully chuckled at that admission. “No. Not really.”