Firestorm moments #1 · 6:16pm Feb 14th, 2019
“All right, just two cups of oats?”
“That should be it,” Noble reported, looking at the box as he sat on the counter. “Look, it’s not going to be all that bad, you know.”
“I’d still feel more comfortable if you let me borrow your helmet for this,” Firestorm said, as he held the cup of oats above the pot of boiling water. “Or a welding hood. I get the feeling something bad’s going to happen the instant I put this in.”
“It’s not going to catch on fire, Storm. It’s water.”
Firestorm, after another moment of silent reflection, gathered his courage together and poured the cup of oats in the pot of water.
The water, true to Noble’s word, didn’t catch on fire. But some oats splashed boiling water out of the pot, making Firestorm leap back instantly, sending the rest of the cup of dry oats onto the blistering hot stove. And those caught fire.
“SHOOT!” Firestorm grabbed a dish towel off the hanging oven handle and began to beat the stove fire with it, only making it larger. “SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT!”
“I’ll do it!” Noble cried, and fired his horn at the stove fire. His horn shot a beam of tightly-concentrated ice at the base of the small fire, and the flames died down. The stove now had a small bit of ice on the heater, which was even now melting rapidly and sizzling as the water evaporated upon contact with the hot surface.
Both of them stood there, panting and looking with an incredulous gaze at the stove, where a small burn mark now was. Noble then turned to face Firestorm, and Firestorm looked back at Noble.
“Okay, it’s a curse,” Noble finally said, after debating in his mind on what to say about it.
Firestorm pointed at the stove. “Yeaaahhh,” he said slowly, as if explaining it to a child that had only then gotten the message.
