You’re a metahuman in a top secret and heavy security prison, each metahuman having their own cells that match their ability to keep them at bay. You happen to be a pyrokinetic, locked in the yard of the prison with gates around it, within the gates lays a large metal cylinder with a shallow layer of water in it, a small window in the hauls entrance in the otherwise dark cylinder.

One of your several guards, Ghost, bangs on the entrance of the cylinder. “Chow time, scumbag!”