Most of the time, the expression: 'Fight fire with fire' is frowned upon. They say that if tempted, they should remember that fire-fighters use water to put out the fire.

However sometimes, they are wrong.

Sometimes, the fire is too hot and the water evaporates.

Sometimes, the best thing you can do is fight back with the same strength.

Sometimes, it's the only thing you can do.

These were the thoughts of the weakening seventy year old man as he fought for his life. The wild bush fire that surrounded him drained his strength as he used as much of his power as he dared to keep it from spreading to the rest of the forest.

The man in front of him, a silhouette framed against the burning inferno, laughed at old man's futile attempts. "You're pathetic." He snarled. "You could never defeat me."

The older male refused to answer, instead focusing on remaining conscious. The shadowed man laughed again, a haunting tune, and decided enough was enough. Using his immense strength, he collected a ball of fire the size of a basketball and threw it at the frail man in front of him.

The frail man, however being immune to the bite of fire, was not safe from the force of the flames being thrust at him. He lost his footing and was flung back as the ball punched his gut.

Pain spread across his body as he landed. The older man remained on the ground, trying to absorb the Earth's endless energy, to help to restore his body faster.

Strutting over, the younger male flicked his hands. Intertwined ropes of poison ivy swum out of the ground, fastening themselves around the arms and legs of the fallen fighter.

The captor inhaled deeply, held the air in his mouth for a minute, ignoring the struggling man at his feet, and slowly exhaled into the man's face.

The poisonous gas entered the old man's system, suffocating him. He struggled to breath, knowing that if he wasn't careful, he and the world as we know it would die.

Sirens, calling for fire-fighters to fight the wild-fire sounded in the air, along with the cracking and cackling of burning pines. "Your time is up, old man." The standing man said before transforming into a dark grey, storm cloud-like being and rising above both the dying man and dying forest, disappearing into the smoke.

The remaining man lay there, trying to draw enough energy from the tainted ground to do one last task.

When he thought he had enough, he configured a ball of sight, made from the six elements of the earth.

Water... Fire... Earth... Metal... Air... Plantation.

Together it gave him the ability to view whatever he wanted, wherever. But he only used it to watch one thing, his family. Mentally, he pictured his twin grandchildren.

He thought of their appearance, their personality, and their similarities. Opening his eyes, he viewed them in not just thought but in the ball of sight.

He watched his twin grandchildren through the crystal clear picture, both blonde and tall with eyes that saw and understood more than normal; yet they were polar opposites. At the present, they were laughing over something that his grandson had said. For siblings, they got on surprisingly well; arguing little and even considering each other as best friends. The twins had both lived up to and far surpassed his expectations, they were perfect for the job he had for them.

Ignoring his burning lungs, the grandfather exhaled the last of his breath, muttering the words that relieved him of his duties and gave them over to the twins sitting on the bed, completely unaware of how the weight of the world rests on their sixteen year old shoulders and how their life will change so dramatically in the future.

"Ο χρόνος της ομιλίας μου έχει έρθει, μπορεί να τους απογόνους μου βάση στην ενότητα ενάντια στην σκοτεινή πλευρά του ήλιου την εξουσία του το σύμπαν."

Sometimes, the old man thought, fighting fire with fire is the only way to survive.

Authors Note:

Hi everyone, I wrote this story when I was ten and I have decided to put it up. I am editing it and making it longer but the story line is essentially the same.

Hope you enjoy!