It was warm, almost burning. Raphael felt the beginnings of a lazy grin spread across his face as he wrapped his fingers more tightly around the cracked leather of the steering wheel, easing into the turn. His car, ancient and wheezing, began its long and strenuous ascent; the faded yellow needle behind the thick plastic on his dashboard creaked dangerously near the luminous "E"...but Raphael didn't care. It was warm...almost burning. He resisted the millionth urge to sneak his hand in, cradle the thing. A sharp cough from his engine lanced his gaze back onto the road...but...it was warm...

Pale headlights flashed over the dull brick porch, sunk back down to the dark and waiting garage, illuminating power tools dusty and rusted from disuse, casting sheer and ugly shadows across the back wall. "Easy...easy..." His foot shifted, pressing firmly on the brake just before the scratched front bumper could jolt the rickety wooden tool bench's legs. Best not to wake his mom, or his sisters...they needed the sleep.

He crept into the house, pausing to listen for a moment, and then nodding. Just as he thought; they were all asleep, and probably had been for some time. He'd taken the long way, just to be sure...but his sister's recital had taken it out of them more than they had wanted to admit. Raphael had nothing to worry about, but...it was best to be cautious. He slipped down the stairs, feet nimbly skipping over the one rotten step, skidding into his room and locking the door behind him. It was still so warm...and he suddenly felt so cold. Another look wouldn't do any harm, right?

His fingers, suddenly shaking, dipped into his deep pocket, and-

"Ah-!" He cut off the exclamation, suddenly tense. The metal was burning hot. His eyes scanned his darkened room, heart pounding, seeking something...there! He snatched up a rag, draped it over his fingers, and dug them in again. The heat was uncomfortable, but bearable with the rag; he quickly pulled his prize out, amazed at the wisps of smoke rising from the center of the cloth. The ring itself was - glowing? - shining in the light spilling in from his , now. He brushed a fingertip across its surface, shivering. Why was it so cold in his room? Why-

His head snapped downwards; the ring had slipped onto his wandering finger. And it was so warm again...so...HOT!

He choked back a scream as the metal began to glow, grow fiery, molten, the flesh of his hand beginning to sizzle. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, slapping the suddenly-burning hand against the thick shag carpet, this time really screaming as the carpet started to smoke...glow...burn.

It felt like an instant, and then everything was alight, everything smothered in flames. Blades of fire ripped through his flesh, singed his very bones...and in the distance, through the shredding agony of his own immolation, he heard other screams. He stumbled to his feet, mouth agape as the world turned white-orange-red, a pillar of heat and fury blasting outwards from his very center.

And the ring...oh, the ring...it was the sun itself. His eyes - did he still have eyes? - burned in the gaze of that nuclear disaster as it spread, scurrying like a living thing up his burning arms, merging with them, pounding into them the very essence of Something New. It was like acid in his veins, the New Thing, and he couldn't tell any longer if his screams were screams or the tongues of flame roaring free from his mouth, licking the ceiling, wrapping around beams and brick and wood.

And then the New Thing reached his eyes, his forehead, slamming into his brain like a hammer...and he was the fire. He was Combustion, kicking and biting and biting and scratching at this Big Old Thing around him, trying to pull it all in, grow patches of himself everywhere, laughing and screaming and bleeding all at once...until some little bit of old Raphael peeked through, and screamed "STOP!"

And like film of an explosion played in reverse, all the smoke and the flame and the raging destruction was pulled back, the gnawing teeth ripped away from their meal, sucked into Raphael, their new source and home...and at last, his awareness returned.

He blinked. His forehead hurt...he couldn't remember what he was doing...where he was. And...why he was naked. He looked around; revelation slowly setting in as his gaze passed over the seemingly-unfamiliar blackened mess all around him. It was a picture frame that woke him fully; burnt black around the edges, the glass shattered...in the clutch of a fleshless hand, peeking free of the rubble. Mother.

He collapsed, and consciousness fled.

-
A/N: Oh, so sad! If you're able to guess correctly who's next, I'll bite my arm hair.