Oh, Firefly. Dear Firefly.

Ever since the aftermath of your Trailblaze Mission in Penacony, a brief time slot opened for the both of you to meet, reconvene, and bond. From across the table sat this familiar silvery-blonde woman who wore her typical bright smile, occasionally reaching a gloved hand across to signal her obvious intentions to lace your hands together. Who can deny her?

“Ow ow ow ow… Why would you pinch my temple like that…” She squirmed, immediately pulling her hand back and soon, your feet were met with the sensation of a slight pressure atop them. A cute pout arose from her cheeks, her face turning away from you towards the store window. “Hmph.”

She was obviously just relishing in the view, right? From the blurry sight of vehicles going slightly above the speed limit, the passing pedestrians in myriad clothing, and the wideness of the strip mall in the distance… These sights proved as uninteresting as your choice of clothing. So, enough with the denial.

Firefly, I think I lo—

In an instant, a loud thud at the restaurant entrance follows the glass shattering, and a group of individuals wearing ski masks rush themselves into the building’s premises.

Their footsteps echo throughout the restaurant, their hands holding onto M1911 and Glock-17 pistols that leave everyone in their scope petrified. Firefly furrows her brows, a tinge of nervousness coursing through her veins.

"Empty out the registers now. I want your hands where I can see them. Do not call the police." Before the counter, a masculine, baritone voice emanates from the robber standing at the centre of it all. Suddenly, he redirects the scope of his pistol towards Firefly.

"Or else, we will have to sacrifice this beautiful young lady."

A drop of sweat hit the floor, splashing right off the beige tiles with a light drip that disrupted the silence.

"I... don't believe in sacrifices." She said meekly, before reaching into her outfit and pulling out a neon-winged trinket. The scene immediately turns white, as if lit by a second sun. In this blinding light, she becomes clad in an iron armour worthy of her moniker.

The restaurant transforms into a hellish landscape encroached by flames. Within her iron armour, she pummels a robber with the force of a truck, her fist held tight in a ball of molten blaze. The resulting impact sends him shattering the transparent restaurant windows, flying out of the establishment and onto the tarmac.

As a consequence, the remaining robbers would no longer stand still, firing incessant bullets from their handguns towards the death machine of a mecha before them. However, even the ones that graze Firefly's armour only ricochet and fall onto the floor, limp. Soon, they begin dropping like flies.

The robber with the red-rimmed black ski mask saw the restaurant gradually grow smaller before experiencing the inevitable pull of gravity.

The robber who left a hand in their pocket, their posture shrunk, felt a burning sensation at the centre of his chest, only to see nothingness at a place where it was once flesh.

The robber who neared the entrance of the establishment, seemingly attempting an escape had Firefly slam her repeatedly to the ground like a ragdoll, a small crack left after every impact.

The robber who adorned a black ski mask defiantly unloads his bullets onto Firefly until the very end, but eventually becomes unmasked and defaced onto the cold floor that masked the smell of burnt skin.

The phoenix plume fades in the cooling wind, and heat no longer emanates from the ground. Ignoring the frightened bystanders, her gentle steps lead her to return to the other side of the table, wearing a sweet smile that appeared out of character for the woman previously decimating her opponents. No longer was she a weapon, but at this moment a flower.

Once more, the rest of the world fades.

With her characteristically sweet tone, she spoke gently with a tinge of conviction.

"That was a mess to deal with. Thanks for staying patient for me this whole time. Shall we continue our date?"