The museum was full of people, they said, so Kelvin realized he’d have to take it down a notch when he went inside. He could handle it himself, if he wanted to, or should he wait for backup?
Kelvin thought about it. “How many bad guys are in there?”
“Not that many. Including the leader, who I think you’ll be able to take out on your own,” said the captain. “If we wait for backup, we might not have time to–”
Kelvin nodded. Time was of the essence here. “I can do this.”
He went into the museum. The place was quiet in the first room, though his auditory pickups heard whimpering and hissed words of “Shut up!” He walked into the next room and his reticles caught three men standing over a kneeling woman. Kelvin powered up his chest beam and hit the first man, throwing him across the room and into the wall, where he sat down and didn’t move.
Another big man came at Kelvin, his hands on fire. He punched Kelvin with those fiery hands, and the metal got hot, but his inner coolant kicked in and he didn’t feel the heat. Kelvin delivered a force beam to the man’s face, and his head snapped back, his body following. Then Kelvin let loose with a barrage of force beams, driving the man to the floor. The self-repair part of the suit kicked in and sealed a hole that the third man made with a fire blast to Kelvin’s side.
He went to the woman and helped her up, getting her out of the museum. There were a few hostages that he didn’t have a problem with, but they all used fire, and the inside of his suit was getting warm, even with the coolant. He got to the head of the museum, where he saw a man with fiery red hair, wearing orange. His feet were wrapped in straps, and his hands were like claws. People had scattered, and Kelvin advanced alone down the aisle.
“Stop right there,” he said, having turned up his mic so that it echoed in the small room. “You are under arrest.”
The man turned around. His eyes were fiery red, and he had a mustache and beard similar to Hi-Pan’s. “You dare to interrupt me?”
“You’re taking an artifact that is not yours. Put it down and come quietly.”
The man laughed. “Do you know who I am?”
Kelvin accessed the onboard computer. Nothing came up. “Should I?” he said.
“I am Conflagration!” the man roared, “And you will be ashes!” He raised his hands and fire came at Kelvin from all directions. He also threw fire at Kelvin, hitting one spot at his torso over and over, at his left side.
“Cooling apparatus failing,” said the computer in his helmet. “Sector B-9 in danger of failing.” To be helpful, the computer put it on the screen.
Kelvin turned his body to try and avoid that part getting hit, so instead he hit another one. “Cooling apparatus failed. Further heat will injure occupant.”
“I know!” he said. He was already feeling the heat of the metal against his skin.
Conflagration laughed, and hit him again in the torso with another fireball. Kelvin screamed as it felt like the fire hit him square in the lungs. He felt and smelled something burning, and realized it was his own flesh. Kelvin roared and sent out a last blast at Conflagration, all that he had, and the man got tossed out of the hole he had made in the museum.
Kelvin held his side and almost burst into tears at the pain. He shuffled over to the hole, but the man in orange was gone. Kelvin knelt, and that hurt even more. He pressed the release for the helmet and took it off, letting it roll out of his hand onto the floor.
“You okay, son?” asked Drifter.
“I–I’m injured.”
“We’ll get you a doctor, right quick,” Drifter said, and waved his hand. They got Kelvin onto the stretcher. “Call my mom,” he said, “please.”
“We got it under control. You jus’ rest,” said Drifter, and put his hand on Kelvin’s arm. “You did good, son.”
Kelvin smiled, and still had that smile when he passed out.