Scorch sat on his uncomfortable prison bed, deep in thought. His jet-black hair reached just past his ears, and instead of his typical orange armored costume, he was wearing a dull, striped prison uniform.
Scorch was thinking about what he would do after he escaped from the prison block, and how he could escape in the first place.
So far, Scorch had decided that after he was free, he would take his criminal-for-hire advert out of the paper. Then he would seek out all of the other major supervillains: Thunder and his brother Lightning, the mercenary Impulse, and the villainess known as Hyperspeed.
Scorch would unite them all under his banner, and he would then lead the Fearsome Five to victory!
As for escape...
Scorch examined the brick wall, inspecting every last crack. The bricks had been slapped together with a cheap concrete. To any ordinary person it would be a lost cause, but with Scorch's powers it was simply a barrier that could be destroyed.
"Hmmmm," Scorch mumbled, gently touching the wall.
It suddenly struck him that if he could use his powers to heat up the cement to a certain temperature, it would crumble and it would only take a small punch or kick to shatter the entire wall!
Scorch did not hesitate to open his fist and cause a burst of flame to spring from his palm at a particularly cracked section of wall. He increased the heat until the entire wall shuddered under the ravaging inferno.
Scorch was relentless, and continued to blast writhing tongues of flame all over the burning wall.
Scorch stopped, and allowed to wall to cool down. The white paint had been completely incinerated off, revealing the charred bricks that were now a light shade of black.
Summoning his strength, Scorch punched the wall with all his might. It collapsed, revealing the squad of armed soldiers on the other side. Before they could fully comprehend that Scorch had broken out of his cell, he was already obliterating them with a massive blast of fiery heat.
Scorch stepped over the smoldering bodies, looking rather ridiculous in his prison uniform. He sprinted down the corridor as fast as he could, hoping to escape the building before the alarm was sounded.
No such luck.
For just then, a loud screeching siren sliced through the cold air, alerting everybody in the building that Scorch had escaped.
Scorch rounded a corner, only to find himself face-to-face with over fifty troopers. All fifty rapid-fire weapons were pointed directly a Scorch's heart.
"Scorch, you're coming with us!" said a high-ranking officer at the front of the group.
With fifty rapid-fire guns pointed at his chest, Scorch had no choice but to obey.
Scorch was handcuffed and walked down several grim corridors, until they reached a high-security fireproof cell.
"We underestimated you, Scorch. I'm afraid a regular cell will not do for you. You'll have to stay here," said the officer, gesturing at the high-security cell.
For a moment, Scorch was stumped. He thought they had actually beaten him. Then an idea sprang to mind. It was the oldest trick in the book, but it would have to do.
"Please, don't put me in there!" pleaded Scorch, trying to buy some time. "I'm a multi-billionare! I can pay you all millions of dollars, and you can say that you did your best to stop me, but I escaped! PLEASE!"
The policemen turned their heads, momentarily tempted by the offer. This was all the time Scorch needed to blast them until they were only smoking corpses.
"Heheh, I can't believe they fell for that trick!" chuckled Scorch, bolting down another corridor.
He was still handcuffed, which was a nuisiance. But it did not stop Scorch from rushing through the halls, passing more cells full of criminals and murderers. Several times policemen tried to stop him, but it was not too difficult for Scorch to annihilate them with flame, despite the handcuffs.
After nearly fifteen minutes of struggling to navigate the maze-like prison, Scorch had found a green sign pointing left to an exit. Scorch went left, running as fast as the handcuffs would let him.
When Scorch finally reached the door to the exit, he pulled open and was met by warm air and the sweet aroma of flowers. Scorch stepped through the doorway, savoring his freedom. In days his plans would be put into action, and he would get his revenge against White Sphere.
Scorch's thoughts were interrupted by the distinctive crack of gunfire. Not again, Socrch thought.
Scorch's fingertips lit up with a fireball, and Scorch made his way to the source of the gunfire. However, no sooner had he gone five paces, several bullets narrowly missed his torso, and Scorch ducked for cover, extinguishing his fireball.
On any normal day, Scorch would have strode casually into battle. His armored costume (including his helmet) was mostly bulletproof, but of course it had been removed and disposed of when he'd been sent to prison, so Scorch was stuck in this stupid jail uniform.
Diving behind a tree, Scorch peered around to try and spy his would-be-killer. After several seconds of searching, Scorch spotted him - one of the prison's most heavily armed troopers, this soldier's job was to guard the outside and make certain no one escaped. His shaven skull was protected by a large plastic helmet. A kevlar vest could prevent him from being shot, and he had a baton strapped to his belt. In one hand he held a hand-held rapid-fire pistol, and in the other he clutched a walkie-talkie.
Scorch used his powers to ignite the gunpowder inside the weapon the guard was holding. A small explosion ensued, burning the guard's side and ruining his hand. Scorch finished off the howling guard with a quick (and extremely hot) burst of flame to the head, silencing his cries of pain.
Scorch stepped over the body and sprinted towards the highway. He passed quite a few baffled people, but ignored them. Finally, after making his way uptown and crossing the highway, Scorch reached the familiar forboding mansion that belonged to him.
Passing the remains of what used to be his gate, Scorch made his way up the path to the door. It was time to get busy.
Eighteen hours later, Scorch was gazing at his newest masterpiece. His eyes were droopy and lined, for he had not slept since the morning just before he attempted to escape prison. He was now wearing a black suit with a matching black tie and a white undershirt. Before him lay the new Scorch costume.
Unlike its predecessor, this was more of a fusion of armor and costume. This one was completely bulletproof and could withstand temperatures of up to 4000 degrees celcius, and was designed to be comfortable to wear.
The fiery pattern on the chest fabric looked awesome, and the gauntlets could be opened to reveal miniture tanks of compressed water, just in case Scorch's fires got so big that he lost his control.
The scarlet helmet concealed Scorch's identity as Maximilian Holmes, and was equipped with an in-built radio transmitter so Scorch could communicate with any of his criminal allies (once he gained some). The eye holes were tinted black so that Scorch could see out but nobody could see in.
On top of all this, Scorch's new armored costume had an anti-magnetism device that repelled any incoming metal. This was a true masterpiece.
Scorch stripped off his clothes and eagerly pulled on the armor, jamming the new helmet onto his head. The visor was able to magnify his vision at will and Scorch did not hesitate to try this feature. It all worked beautifully.
"A new age is dawning! It will be the age of the Fearsome Five! Hahahahahargh!"
Scorch strode out of the basement, cape billowing behind him. It was time to recruit some supervillains.