[hr][hr][center][img] http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLmZkOTYxMi5RVTVFVWtWWElFaFZSMGhGVXcsLC4w/just-in-the-firestorm.regular.png[/img][/center][hr][b][i]31st October, 2025[/i][/b][hr]
[i]S’tann S’tonn. Martian. Manhunter. Nephew to [b][i]the[/i][/b] Martian Manhunter. Hates everyone. Very competitive. Extremely aggressive. Shares a dorm with Alex Luthor. Totally has the hots for Mari. Has the entire opposite for anything to do with fire. Hates the Earth. Is determined to make the entirety of the school hate him. 

Oh, yeah. And a complete and utter dickwad.[/i]

Andy’s chest hurt. Something kept stabbing at his lungs every time he took a breath. His back felt like Batman’s after Bane had broken it. His cheek stung, burned, a feeling that was unfamiliar to him, and his vision threatened to give out to the black that spread from the corners of his eyes. Slowly, shakily, he got up onto his feet, staring at the Martian with a shocked rage that threatened to match the hatred his assailant was sending his way. There was no longer fire blazing around his head. His skull mask, a cheap thing he’d bought for five dollars, was torn where S’tann had smacked him. With pained effort, he removed it, tossing it carelessly onto the floor, an afterthought. The crowd that had gathered around them, too, was an afterthought. All of his focus was on S’tann.

“Do you know,”  he gasped, “Why I pick on you so much, Stan?” He paused, breathing heavy, painful breaths, each time his lungs getting poked by what he assumed were his ribs. “Why I annoy you? Why I never seem to leave you alone?” He staggered forward, hand clutching his side. “I can tell you… right now… that it’s not because you’re a Martian. It’s not because fire hurts you so much. And believe it… or not, it’s not because I don’t like you. Do you want to hear my secret, Stan? Do you?” His eyes bore into his rival’s. “It’s because you make it [i]so damned [b]easy[/b][/i].

“You’re so caught up with hating everyone, with believing that you’re better than us, that you’ll do everything in your power to maintain that illusion. The [i]tiniest[/i] thing gets a rise out of you. All I have to do is raise an eyebrow in your direction and you go [i]apeshit[/i]. So, yeah, I may be the ‘bane of your existence’. But only because you’re too busy trying to be everyone else’s.” Andy paused, wincing. It hurt, talking. But he wasn’t about to stop. Not until he was done. “And you know what [i]really[/i] pisses me off about you?” A tremor entered his voice. He was but a few inches away from S’tann now. “You could be the best of us. You could be the guy that leads us when we’re Titans. When we’re Leaguers. You keep saying how you’re better than all of us, but you don’t realise that if you just shut it and [i]be[/i], it’ll actually be true. You could be every bit the hero your uncle is. Every bit the hero your cousin is, and Superman is, and Batman is. So why the [i]fuck[/i] aren’t you?” Now he was shoving S’tann at the end of every sentence, ignoring the pain in his side. “And now, you pick a fight with me. I have a little joke, nowhere near as bad as ones I’ve had in the past, and you pick a fight with me. You pick. A fight. [i]With me[/i].” He was glowing with heat. His skin was a bright orange, his veins brighter still, his eyes burning as bright as the sun. “And why? Because there’s a little room-temperature fire going on the top of my head. Well, I hate to break it to you, big guy, but that isn’t the furthest I can go. I’m not just another pyrokinetic that can shoot fire from his hands. I control solar energy, S’tann. That bright ball up in the sky? It’s [i]me[/i]. I’m [i]it[/i]. I [i]am[/i] fire.”

With that, he let the bright flame engulf him, an aura of orange, almost golden fire blazing around his figure, incinerating his costume, leaving nothing but bare skin. He reduced it to a tendril, wrapping it around his lower body, covering his privates with the scorching flame. The sweat that tried to trickle down his forehead evaporated upon exiting its pores. The blood that threatened to trickle out of his nose did the same. His well-defined figure glowed magnificently in the mess hall, bright, exhuming a boiling heat that made everyone in the building sweat like pigs.

“But I’m not going to fight you, S’tann. I don’t want to.” He reduced the tendril that covered his vitals’ temperature, as cold as he could make it, trying to lessen the effect it would have on the Martian. “So take your best shot. I hope it’s worth it.”