Flames licked at the reflective black and yellow suit clothing Richard's body. The fire that touched didn't scorch through to char his skin, but instead molded around his form. While the fire didn’t burn him there was no way to escape the intense heat that burn inside his suit. The dry scent of smoke hung to the air as Richard hurtled the red axe in his hands against the wooden door of the child's room. A long pitiful cry of a young girl came from behind the wood. A long hollow moan signaled the wooden pillars supporting the house were drained as the fire consumed what little feed was left. Richard hammered again and again on the door hinges while the constant beeping of his air tank reminded him of what little fresh oxygen he had left. His lungs ached and he imagined the little girl’s lungs were burning with each new breath she took. This thought gave him enough drive to finally smash in the last rusty hinge under the dull blade of the axe with a loud 'crack!' Richard shoved open the door, to only catch a glimpse of the tiny girl bundled beneath her blanket, before the pillars finally gave way underneath his boots and he started to fall into the flames below.